Good Night
by HomiSidle
Summary: Things may become comfortable, but never routine. J/S, cause, well, yeah!


Title: Good Night  
  
Author: HomiSidle  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Notes/Disclaimers: I don't own Without a Trace, Jerry Bruckheimer or even a Chihuahua named Poppy (that's Devanie's! :D) but I do own this story. Enjoy and please give feedback, even if it's negative. I love response! Thanks to everybody down on Maple Street who inspires me.  
  
****  
  
She sat at her desk, tired, drained, and emotionally exhausted. Not to mention the fact that she was so physically wiped she could barely lift her fingers to type out a monotone report for a demanding press agent. She felt heavy, like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. It was an old cliché, but it was most definitely accurate.  
  
That was when he walked in. That was when he always walked in, coffee in hand and worry in mind. She worked too hard, always had, but he liked that about her. He liked nearly everything about her, especially the way her hair started the day in a tight, no-nonsense ponytail, and ended in a messy, unpolished heap. She was the same way - she would begin work professional and businesslike and go home limp and exhausted. So tired, in fact, that she'd almost driven her car into a wall that night when he saw her in the parking lot after work. He liked to watch her get into her car at night - when she'd sigh, pull her hair back out of her face, hopelessly attempt to shake some of the tension knots out of her shoulders and put her hands on the wheel. It had been that way every day for all the years he'd known her, except tonight.  
  
His name was Jack Malone, hers, Sam Spade. In point of pact, her name was really Samantha, but for some reason he'd always called her Sam. His wife, Marie, didn't know about the nickname. She didn't know about the late hours, the coffee, the fact that Jack always found some way of touching Sam whenever she felt like she couldn't go on, sending a rapid electrical shock through her entire body. There was so little that Marie did know. All she knew was that her and her husband had been separated for three months, three months of confusion and misunderstanding. She didn't know that Jack Malone was in love with someone else. Then again, neither did he.  
  
Sam looked up and her boss, her friend, her co-worker. His right outstretched arm clasped a Grande Dark Roast from the coffee shop across the way, and in his left, he held his car keys. She appeared confused, mainly because she was.  
  
"Thanks, Jack," she said, sipping carefully at the hot liquid, "I needed this."  
  
He smiled encouragingly at her, and she even managed to grin back at him. Then her gaze returned to the key ring in Jack's left hand, and then up to meet his worried pitch black eyes. How did those eyes have so much warmth for being so dark?  
  
"Sam, let me give you a ride," he half-whispered, "You can't drive, you're too tired."  
  
She attempted to protest, but her weary limbs wouldn't let her. Sam knew she was in no condition to battle the highways of New York City, even at 2:23 in the morning. At least, that's what the laptop in front of her said. 2:23 in the morning. When did her life become like this?  
  
"Okay," she replied, smiling weakly, "I appreciate this."  
  
Samantha took a gulp of her cooling coffee and stood up. Immediately the pain of sitting one spot for 7 hours and 34 minutes hit her like a freight train, and her leg buckled under her violently. Jack, being a man of action, quickly grabbed her and pulled her to safety. Standing up at last, she smiled thankfully in his direction, staring deep into those eyes once more.  
  
"Sorry, Jack," Sam laughed apologetically, "I've been sitting in one spot for too long."  
  
"It's alright," he responded wistfully. Jack Malone did not at all mind any excuse to hold Sam Spade. After all, she was beautiful.  
  
That's when he remembered Marie. He'd done so much of that lately - every time he and the stunning blonde made physical contact. Marie had been pretty, too. Pretty, but not... beautiful. Sam Spade was beautiful, and every time they touched and he thought of Marie it hurt less and less. They were separated. They were getting divorced. Not that any of that mattered, because he wasn't interested in his co-worker. Was he?  
  
Looking at her, he knew that of course, he was. Of course he was interested. At one time, it had been something of a lust - she was pretty, young and spunky. Then he had gotten to know her better, and after the all the years they'd spent getting to know each other it felt less and less like lust, and more and more like love.  
  
Sam blushed and stood herself up straight, not bothering to step back from Jack. It was amazing how little was said in their daily interaction, and how much needed to be said. The unspoken words were like tiny little daggers poking at her heart, trying to break through. She was so tired, and he was there for her, as usual. No, not usual... nothing about their relationship was 'usual'.  
  
After closing up the office, they walked out together to the car, taking full advantage of every opportunity to sneak a touch, rub, pat, tap, stroke or feel of each other. He opened the car door for her, and she smiled. It was the unspoken words in that simple action, his 'I can take care of you if you'll let me' and her 'I'll let you if promise never to stop'. Everything they did had those thoughts behind it. They varied, maybe changed wording, but it always remained the same - they trusted and cared about each other.  
  
Sam got in the car, sighed, pulled her hair back from her face and then quickly fell asleep. Jack grinned. The first time he drove her home, three months ago, she'd been nervous and edgy, wondering what he would do next. Now, after driving her home about 5 times, she trusted him, because he just pulled into the parking lot of her dingy apartment and she got out. It was simple. Regular. Expected. Habitual.  
  
Tonight was different. Stopped at a red light, Jack looked over at her innocent face. Worry lines had almost begun just in the middle of her smooth, delicate forehead, but that was to be expected in her line of work. She spent so much time worrying and working for other people. Jack knew that someone had to take care of her. He didn't think it was right to drop her at that bland apartment building and let her make herself dinner, fix the beds, look after herself and then drop dead on the couch. Someone needed to do for her.  
  
The light turned green and he pressed the gas again. Where was he going? To her apartment? No. Not tonight. He cared about her too much to let her go. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but he didn't want her to go home tonight.  
  
"Sam, do you want to stay at my place tonight? I've got room, and you won't have to cook," Jack said softly, and she emitted some sort of appreciative grunt. She was even beautiful when she slept in the car.  
  
Jack's palms began to sweat slightly as he turned down the side road to his new townhouse. He'd moved out since his separation, and had found a gorgeous little hideaway in Connecticut that wasn't too far a drive from work, but just far enough. He arrived and slowed into the brick driveway. Then he stopped and tried to breathe. Sam was at his house. What if she didn't know she'd agreed? Maybe he should just take her home... but no, she had grunted appreciatively. This was best for her, at least in his slightly biased opinion.  
  
He got out of the car and walked around to her side, breathing on the glass, staring in at her. Her hair had fallen across her face and her clothes had become dishevelled. Right now she needed to sleep. He cautiously opened the door and her eyes parted slightly.  
  
"Sam, we're here. You need to stand up," Jack said with worry emanating in his voice.  
  
She blinked exhaustedly and smiled, standing up haphazardly. Jack took her arm, and the bolt of lightning through both of them was enough energy for her to shut the car door and walk up the steps to his sparsely decorated home. He put the key into the lock and pushed it open, revealing a modest living room with a cardboard box or two lying here and there. He could've used a plant, Sam thought, smiling through the dimly lit hallway. Jack didn't bother switching on any lights - she was going to sleep anyway. He asked her if she wanted to change, but she denied his offer. He led her to his bedroom and showed her the bed, and she lay down on it, closing her eyes.  
  
"I'll sleep on the couch," he told her quietly.  
  
Jack looked down on her, full of conflicting emotions, each bouncing off each other violently. He knew she shouldn't be here, but then, why shouldn't she? He was just doing his friend a favour. Not just his friend - but she didn't really fall under a category. Girlfriend? No, not quite. Mistress? That was harsh and untrue. Right now, friendship seemed to be all he had to offer, and he decided he'd reason how to change that in the morning. Jack Malone decided that friendship wasn't quite enough.  
  
Pulling up a blanket around the slightly shivering Sam Spade, Jack turned to leave when he heard a feeble whisper coming from the semiconscious woman in his bed.  
  
"Jack," she said so faintly that he had to lean closer to hear her properly, "I really appreciate all that you've done for me."  
  
Beaming, Jack responded softly, "You're very welcome."  
  
Sam smiled, her eyes still closed, and he stood up fully to go, when she spoke again, even weaker than before, if possible.  
  
"Good night, Jack Malone," she mumbled happily, and then promptly fell asleep.  
  
Jack looked down at her, wondering what to say. Could he say 'I love you'? Could he say 'I want you to stay tomorrow night, too'? At the end of the day, which was what it was, there really was only one thing left to say and do.  
  
"Good night, Sam Spade," he whispered in her ear, and softly kissed her on the cheek. Then he stood up and went to the living room to see about setting up the couch to sleep on.  
  
Deep in her dreams, Samantha... no, Sam, still managed to turn up the corners of her mouth. iGood night/i, she thought.  
  
***GOOD NIGHT*** 


End file.
